Gordon was not impressed when Michael, now nearly five and ready for school, put on his parts. Sometimes he would cry and scream hysterically. Gordon isolated him in another room until he calmed down then he'd comfort him. Crying purged him. Afterwards, Michael felt better, more settled and secure in his mind. But it was not a permanent state. Hysteria, partly self-induced, partly-contrived for attention happened again and again.
"Isn't he ever going to grow out of it?"asked Gordon.
"Give him a chance, he's still only four,"defended Margaret.
His sister, Gwyn, was different. She was placid and not easily upset. She shared all her things willingly with Michael and they played happily together, because she always let him have his own way. She was goodness itself.
Her near-perfect behaviour never irritated Michael, except when Nan asked, "Why can't you behave yourself nicely like your sister?"
Everyone including Michael loved her . She had naturally pleasant ways. She was not precious, prissy or conceited. She never complained much during the illnesses which she endured most winters.
Michael and Gwyn had some really good times when they were little kids together, safe in the enclosed world of their Lancaster family. Michael liked the reassuring routines and rituals of daily life. He knew that so long as Monday was washing- day, Tuesday was ironing-day, Wednesday was shopping-day, Thursday was cleaning-day and Friday was baking-day, whilst the weekends were Dad's days, all was right with the world. There was a place for everything and everything was in its place. He felt secure.
He looked forward to washing-day, when his mother boiled many kettles of water to pour over the dirty linen in a dolly tub. The water was a faintly bluish colour because she put a dolly-blue dye in with lots of soapflakes.
Michael liked to push the clothes around with the posser -- but it was hard work and his mother took over after his first few attempts.
"I can do it! I can!"
"Give it here! All you are doing is splashing the water out onto the floor!"
The little kitchen would fill with steam and the already damp walls would stream with condensation.
Gwyn and Michael would help Margaret carry items of linen to the big, heavy mangle standing out in the yard and which used to be shared with Next-door.
"Keep your fingers out of the way," she'd say as she turned the handle and Michael fed clothes between the two heavy rollers.
The best bit was emptying the dolly tub. Margaret used the big saucepan, Michael a small one and Gwyn a tiny one.
"We're good helpers, aren't we Mam?" Michael queried, spilling water on the living-room lino as he made for the back door.
"Good helpers Mam?" repeated Gwyn as she followed him.
They poured some of the dirty water down the outside lav. When the tub was light enough, Margaret would tip it on its bottom rim and roll it out into the yard and pour the rest of the water out into the drain which ran down the back alley. Finally, she dried the lav seat with an old piece of towelling.
"I'll have a nice cup of tea now and have a sit down before I hang out the clothes in the yard. Who wants some Tizer?"
"Me!"
"Me!"
If it was a rainy day all of the wet garments had to go over the clothes horse in front of the fire. Michael hated that, especially in winter, because the fire was shielded by the linen and the room felt colder and more damp than usual.
Shopping was enjoyable. There was always something new to be spotted. They went to Reddrops now because Mam had several items on their 'Never Never'. When you paid, the money went shooting off inside a small container with a whooshing sound. It travelled overhead along a cable to the cashier in another part of the building. A minute later it returned with your change and a receipt. Michael wished that he had one of those at home. It would be nearly as interesting as his model Hornby train.
Little Gwyn wore a harness round her chest with reins attached. Big brother Michael was allowed to hold the reins. It meant Margaret was able to leave the pram at home. She walked ahead and Michael pretended that Gwyn was his horse and he was a man in charge, with a whip.
"Gee-up!" and "Whoa!" he'd shout. Gwyn used to obey him. It was great fun and made them both laugh.
"Stop that now!" said Margaret when they arrived at the busy town-centre, "It's too crowded for games!"
After they'd done all the shopping, a lot of it in the Co-op, because of the divi, they'd head for Penny Street and turn left into Marton Street. They'd run the last bit to their Nan's.
One day Gwyn tripped, fell and grazed a knee. She didn't cry much. She was very brave. She didn't blame Michael 'though he knew it was his fault for jerking her back suddenly on the reins.
Nan said, "You should be more careful with her Michael. She's not as strong as you."
Nan put a bandage on the graze and gave her a sweet. She gave Michael one too. They sat together on the settee sucking them while Nan and Mam chatted.
It was a lovely day. Opposite, Mrs. Wilson was sitting on her front door step when they left. She called across, "Eee, Margaret, aren't them two growing-up fast! They'll be running rings round you soon."
Michael ran round his mother. "Look Mrs Wilson, I'm running a ring round Mam!"
That did make Gwyn laugh.
"Little devil!"chuckled Mrs. Wilson as they turned the corner into Thurnham Street.
Best of all was baking day. Gwyn had her own little rolling-pin and Michael had a small mixing-bowl. Margaret let them make their own pastry for jam tarts and for a little apple pie She put the items into the oven at the side of the fire using old plates. The children would wait anxiously for them to finish baking.
"Aren't they ready yet Mam?"
"Patience!"
The results? Scrumptious!
Most winter afternoons, Margaret sang Gwyn to sleep and laid her down in her cot. Then Michael sat on Margaret's knee and she read him one of his favourite stories.
"You're getting a bit too heavy for this you know,"she said hugging him to her.
"Can I have the one about Sir Galahad Mam?"
"You had that one yesterday."
"Please Mam!"
"Oh, all right then. Once upon a time..."
Sometimes he fell asleep and woke an hour later, curled-up cosily on the big comfortable easy chair in front of the blazing fire.
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